That's Not My Shoe
by mystorytotell
Summary: Cinderella couldn't really have been the only girl in the kingdom with that shoe size, could she? Here's what happens when the slipper gets tried on one of those other girls first.


Her name wasn't Eleanor or Ellen or Ella, it wasn't even Cindy. And I never heard anyone, not even her stepmother or stepsisters call her Cinderella. Yes, her mother died when she was a little girl, yes, her father remarried a woman, and yes, that woman had two daughters of her own. But that's about all the story got right.

Her stepmother, Lady Constance Fortescue, was a no-nonsense kind of lady, but she was not cruel, at least not that I ever heard. Her daughters, Elizabeth and Annabelle, were young ladies like any other, prone to occasional bouts of selfishness and jealousy, but on the whole good.

Oh, and about the girl in question, her name was Jane.

Jane had high aspiration and the plainness of her name aggravated her to no end and perhaps that's why her real name is never in the stories, but I doubt it. While Jane did have to do chores, she was by no means a servant in her own home. The brothers who told her story seemed to have overestimated the family's financial state. The house had a few servants, but certainly not enough to maintain it by themselves so Lady Constance, Jane, Elizabeth and Annabelle could often be found hanging the laundry out to dry, sweeping out the front rooms, mending their own clothes or purchasing the groceries for supper. They were a normal family, albeit one that had suffered the tragedy of losing Lord Fortescue before his time, but they all got along well enough.

I knew them all, you see. I couldn't claim to know them well, we were from different castes and though they may occasionally do chores around their own home, aristocracy does not fraternize with servants. And this is where we come to the real reason Jane's name was never used in the story: because they used mine, Cindy, because while the first part of the story was hers, the second half was mine. And I could never convince anyone otherwise.

I was working when the invitation came. I worked in the home of the Fairfax's, a good couple with three small children. I was dusting the entryway when the family's head butler, Grant, answered the door with his usual pomp. On the step stood a palace courier. He was young and handsome. He winked at me when he saw me craning my head to see who was at the door. Blushing, I went back to my work. He announced with all the formality of his position, "I carry an invitation for the good Lord and Lady Fairfax. There is to be held a ball at the palace in honor of the prince's twenty-first birthday. All eligible ladies of the kingdom are invited to attend." At the time, I assumed 'eligible' meant titled, landed, or heavily dowried in addition to the obvious, unwed part. It wasn't until I heard the chatter at the market the next day that I realized the invitation literally extended to all unwed women of the realm.

The kitchen girls and coach men (most of whom were really only boys) talked about the ball incessantly, the maids all tittered about it while the cleaned, but I personally agreed with the manservants. None of us were going, even though the maids talked for hours about the glitter of jewels and fancy dresses, and it certainly wouldn't help our work to be off in dreamland. Of course though, even I couldn't help myself in the few moments between laying down and falling asleep. In my mind's eye, I watched the women swirl in their brightly colored dresses, looking for all the world like gems and flowers. The men, straight-backed and smiling in their black dress clothes escorted the women, bowing low, taking their hands and showing them off to the royalty. It was all a grand, charming picture, but I never saw it as a participant; in my imagination, I always watched from somewhere near the grand chandelier, high above it all with no chance of joining. I didn't mind though. While I was old enough to marry, it wasn't something that I actively pursued or looked forward to like my friends. I still felt like a little girl when I watched one of the others take her vows, glowing as she held the hand of a gangly young man. It just wasn't for me, not yet. And the idea of having to marry a prince had no appeal—I couldn't even relate to Lady Fairfax, how would I ever relate to a prince? I was content in my lot.

Jane wasn't though. She always dreamed of joining the elite. She was beautiful and graceful and saw the world as hers to run. She could have done it too. But, the week before the ball, she became entirely too self-absorbed and accidently said some rather rude things to her stepmother and stepsisters. As a consequence, Lady Constance told Jane that she would not be allowed to attend the ball. From what I've heard, Jane cried, raged, begged and demanded, but nothing would persuade Lady Constance from her decision. When Jane began threatening as the day of the ball drew near, she was locked in her room.

I'll never know how she got out, but I do know that she stole Lady Constance's second best gown, her first best being the one she already wore, paid the elderly neighbor's coachmen to take her to the ball and was off, mindful of the fact that Lady Constance had said that she and her daughters would be home by midnight. Her daughters were just barely too young to be married, but she had agreed that they could attend with her and since Jane, the only one of an eligible age for the prince, would not be attending, there was no need for the family to stay until the end. The Fairfaxes attended the ball as well, no one turned down an invitation from the king, but only Grant and their personal servants were still awake when they returned. I was in bed and asleep by ten thirty.

The next day, the whole house was abuzz with the night's story. A beautiful young woman had danced with the prince, spent the whole evening with him and as the night had grown late had even been taken off alone with him. He had been sure she was the one he desired to marry. But as the clock struck eleven thirty and she remembered that still had an entire carriage ride _and_ had sneak back into her room, she had run off, sure that the prince would follow and profess his love.

He did follow, begging her to come back, but she had continued to run to her borrowed carriage. She lost one of her shoes on the steps, a custom made shoe, exotic in origin and made for a small foot. He had kept the shoe and now swore that he would only marry the owner. A party of royal messengers was being sent all over the kingdom to find the maiden and of course, they came to our town first. I was making over a guest room when they arrived at the Fairfax's. This house stood just two short streets ahead of Jane's. I was fluffy the pillows, setting them against the headboard when Freddy, one of the lower manservants rushed through, out of breath. "The royal messengers are here! They want to see all the eligible maidens down in the front room," he said. "You'd better hurry, Cindy."

He was off before I could say more than, "But, I—" Sighing, I did as told, making my way down the front stairway arriving at the same time as Mary and Bridgette, both of whom were pink with excitement. I was mildly irritated. None of us had attended, why did they demand our presence? I had work to do? The handsome messenger from before was there. He winking at Lily this time.

When all the unmarried maidservants had entered, seven of us, an older messenger unfurled a scroll of parchment and read, "Yesterday evening, our Prince James II, son of King James and the late Queen Alexandrea, met his true love at the ball thrown in his honor. At midnight's strike though, she vanished into the night leaving only this slipper, shining like glass in the night." The handsome messenger held up the shoe in question. It was quite lovely and delicate, made from a satin that did indeed catch the light. "Prince James will marry only the young woman who fits this shoe and we, in service, are here to try it on the young ladies of this house, and every house, until we find the wearer." I could hear the expected exhaustion in his voice and thought that he was not looking forward to searching the entire Kingdom, two weeks from end to end, for one girl, no matter how pretty she was. "Every maiden of this house must allow us to fit this shoe to her foot. Let the shoe fitting commence." I wondered how many times this morning he had read the scroll already and how many more times he would read it before the search was finished. It turns out, this was his last time.

At our turn, each of us were invited to sit in the most elegant chair in the room, the one that Lady Fairfax always sat in while the messenger removed our right shoe and attempted to fit the pretty slipper on. Each and every foot was too large. When it was my turn, I took my seat, toed off my shoe and extended my foot. I was the last in line and as soon as this was done, I would be allowed to go back to my work. I was impatient and wasn't paying attention so I didn't at first understand the gasp that went through the room. "My lady," the messenger at my foot said solemnly, bowing over my ankle. And then I understood. The prince's mystery girl had the same size foot as I did. Imagine that. Then everyone in the room was bowing to me, even Lord and Lady Fairfax. The faces of each member of the house were turned toward me in confusion, despite their bowing.

"Cindy?" Lady Fairfax asked in confusion. I was shaking my head.

"No. _No,_ there's been a mistake. This is not my shoe. I didn't attend the ball."

"Nevertheless, my lady," the head messenger said. "Our instruction are to take you to the palace." He offered me is hand and I took it to stand, but let go as soon as I was upright.

"No," I said again. I reached down to slip the fancy shoe off, stepping into my usual brown one. "I _can't_ be the girl you want."

"Please, my lady," the man said. "If that is the case, I am sure everything will be taken care of at the palace." Seeing that I still was not willing to follow along, he leaned in and whispered conspiringly, "And I would very much like to be there for lunch. The palace chefs are quite talented. I chuckled.

"Alright," I finally agreed. As he said, the prince would know right away that I was not his love, everything would be taken care of and, if I was lucky, I would get lunch at the palace, an opportunity I would probably never receive again. "I will come with you."

"My lady," the messenger said again, bowing over my hand with a smile. He lead me from the room, the lord and lady of the house following.

"Cindy?" Lady Fairfax said again, sounding befuddled.

"I'll be back by supper," I promised. "This really is just a misunderstanding. I haven't finished the guest room," I added. "Perhaps—"

"Go, dear," she said. "I'll take care of it." So I did, sure I would be home dinner.

I rode in a coach by myself, the messengers all riding in the plainer one ahead of me. Both coaches were marked with the royal crest though and through the small part in the curtains, I could see plenty of people gawking as I passed by. I leaned back, making sure that they could not see my face. I was rushed into the castle and the younger messenger immediately ran off. "This way, my lady," the older one, he had informed his name was Vincent, said. I wished he would stop calling me my lady. He led me into a sitting room, sitting me on the grandest couch I had ever seen. I winced, not wanting to get it dirty. Vincent stood at attention behind me, but I had no idea what we were waiting for.

My question was answered several minutes later when the doors opened and a voice announced, "His Majesty, King James the first." I shot up, shocked. I hadn't thought I would see the king so immediately or that _he_ would come to _me_. Shouldn't it have been the other way around?

"Your majesty," I curtsied low, keeping my head down.

"Look up, my dear, let me see you." I did as ordered, keeping my eyes averted. "Yes, yes, very pretty," he murmured. "My son has chosen well." I looked back at Vincent, desperate for some help.

"Your majesty," he bowed. "The young lady claims that she is not the woman from the ball. She says there has been a misunderstanding."

"Nonsense," the king waved. "Did the slipper fit?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then that is all. My son was sure the slipper would fit only his beloved, said it had a fairy's spell upon it, and if that's good enough for him, then it's good enough for me. Send for the prince." My eyes widened in shock, but I didn't argue because I was sure that when the prince saw me, he would explain that I was not his young lady and I would be freed, with hopefully a quick stop in the kitchens.

The prince must have been close because only a moment passed before the voice from before announced, "His Highness, Prince James the second." The prince burst in and it looked like he had been running. His eyes went directly to me, the only female in the room. I waited for the expected 'there has been a mistake' but it never came.

"My love," he said, bending over my hand with a kiss. "It must be you! I am so happy to have found you." Technically, I thought, he didn't find me, Vincent did. I didn't voice that opinion though.

"No, your highness," I stammered. He looked up confused. "I-I was not at your party yesterday evening. I never met you."

"Did the slipper fit her?" he asked Vincent, looking behind me.

"Yes, my lord."

"My love, that proves it," he smiled. "You told me yesterday evening that your gown and shoes and jewels were gifts from a kind fairy. I knew the fairy's gift would favor only you and that is why I sent the shoe. I knew it would fit only my love." He smiled in an adoring way and I blushed. Before I could argue further, he asked, "And now will you please tell me your name?" Had the girl really not told him her name the entire evening? And he believed himself in love with a nameless girl?

"I am Cindy, your highness, but I—"

"Of course, that heinous name your stepsisters gave you." Heinous name, excuse me? "I should have known it extended from truth." I didn't even know what to say. I looked to Vincent beseechingly, but he shook his head as if there was nothing for him to do. "Now, we must get you into something more appropriate," he said, "not these servant's rags they've forced you into. Something fit for the princess you are," his eyes practically glowed.

"Princess?" I stammered. "I'm not—"

"Well you soon will be. We are to be married in a month, if of course, you will have me." This was my chance, my chance to get everything straightened out.

Before I could speak though, the king spoke me. "Of course you'll have him, won't you," he chuckled. "Come now, Julia will take you to your rooms and have a dress sent up to you," he said and the mentioned woman stepped forward, ready to act. I stood there gaping. "Welcome to our family, my dear," the king said, stepping forward to kiss my cheek.

And that is how little Cindy became princess.

* * *

A/N: So the whole shoe thing never sat right with me, so this is what I came up with. This will probably remain a oneshot unless I get some major inspiration.


End file.
